


Merlin Teaches Arthur How To Drive: what could possibly go wrong?

by Smiley5494



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur learns how to drive, Attempt at Humor, Australian Road Rules, Cause im australian and i only just got my licence and im not confusing myself any more, Crack, Don't Try This At Home, Driving, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Humour and Hijinks, Immortality is one hell of a buffer, Merlin (Merlin) drives like Crowley (Good Omens), Neither Merlin nor Arthur can actually drive, Post-Canon, vague driving instructions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smiley5494/pseuds/Smiley5494
Summary: “Merlin?” Arthur asked, his hands gripping the door in terror.“Yes, Arthur?” Merlin answered, distractedly.“Do you even know how to drive?”
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	Merlin Teaches Arthur How To Drive: what could possibly go wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> This was written cause I passed my drivers test.
> 
> Special thanks to Surya and Athena for beta reading :D

Arthur sat in what Merlin had termed the ‘driver’s seat’ and absentmindedly pressed the pedals and buttons in confusion. He’d only been resurrected for a few weeks—most of which had been spent learning the local language and customs; apparently one of those customs was learning how to make the metal contraption known as a ‘car’ move.

That was what brought him to this. 

_This_ being sitting in the driver’s seat and being taught how to drive by an immortal sorcerer. Merlin told him which pedal was ‘go’ and which was ‘stop’, and pointed him in the right direction. The rest, as it happened, was up to Arthur to figure out.

Personally, Arthur thought, he wasn’t all too opposed to Merlin giving him more information. In fact, he’d welcome it! All he knew was that this metal death-trap was called a car and that it was moved by pedals at horrifying speeds.

“Turn the key,” Merlin said and pointed at the keys hanging in the dash. Arthur did as Merlin told him to, and sat there, petrified, as the car roared to life. It was louder then he’d expected, and wilder too.

“What kind of sorcery is this?”

“Not sorcery,” Merlin told him, seriously, “mechanics and engineering. Completely mundane.”

Arthur levelled a glare at his friend, “I understood none of that.”

“It’s non-magical sorcery.”

Arthur turned his attention back to the car. Merlin had called the _thing_ in front of him a ‘steering wheel’ and told him it controlled where the car went. How it did that, Arthur had no clue, but it had to have something to do with the way it twisted. Slowly, cautiously, Arthur pressed down on the go pedal—accelerator, he recalled vaguely—and the car roared.

It did not move.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled, “Merlin! The go pedal didn’t make it move!”

“Arthur!” Merlin yelled back, “I’m sitting right next to you, prat, no need to yell. You’ve got the park brake on.”

“Oh,” Arthur fiddled with the buttons and levers until Merlin took pity on him and pointed it out. The red light on one of the Untouchable Dials in front of him went out. Cautiously, but somehow less so than before, Arthur pressed the accelerator down; the car shot off like a rocket, and both Arthur and Merlin screamed their heads off.

Arthur wrenched the wheel to one side and watched in horror as the scenery blurred as they spun in circles. He felt sick, he was moving faster than he’d ever moved before, and yet somehow, simultaneously, he had more and less control over his own movement than he’d ever had. The way Merlin had told it, it was entirely up to Arthur how fast the car went, and where it went, but it certainly didn’t seem like it now.

Arthur pushed his foot down harder and the car moved faster, the speedo in front of him going way past the 110km/hr mark. He and Merlin both jolted forwards when the car stopped abruptly and Arthur’s hands shook with the remnants of adrenaline and terror.

It was over before it had really begun, and Arthur just sat there, in the aftermath of the crash, and stared at the wreckage that had been caused.

“Right,” said Merlin, “let’s fix this then, and try again.”

* * *

Again, Arthur sat in the car—this time a newly repaired and slightly more durable car—and forced himself not to run. If he looked at this as though it was a challenge he needed to master, then he could probably do it. _Probably_. Hopefully, anyway.

He pushed down on the accelerator, gently, and the car began to move forward. Slowly, ever so slowly, Arthur let himself press down harder. The car moved faster. 

“Merlin,” he asked, “how do I slow down?”

“Press the brake.”

Arthur nodded to himself and slammed his foot on the brake. The car lurched and Arthur hit the steering wheel.

It beeped. Loudly.

The noise startled Arthur so much that he let out a long stream of expletives. With every word, Merlin’s eyebrow crept higher—in a manner not dissimilar to Gaius’ famous look. Finally, Arthur groaned, and Merlin—ever so hypocritically—swore, and the two of them both glared at the car. 

“It’s lucky for us,” Merlin told Arthur while he healed the bruises along Arthur’s chest, “that the seatbelt was invented—saved loads of lives it did; even if at first people thought it was stupid. Without it, you’d probably be dead again. Thankfully you just hit the horn.”

“Go on,” he urged, then, “try again.”

And Arthur did. After all, he had never been good at refusing Merlin’s orders. 

* * *

Arthur practised, and practised, and practised until he could control the speed the car moved. As it turned out, Arthur preferred the calmer speeds and safer driving—it was far easier, and he didn’t want to crash _again_. Once was enough, thank you very much.

Eventually, he deemed himself ready and merged onto the road. There were lines painted on this road, and Arthur had no clue what they meant. He stuck to the middle, one half of the car in each lane, and drove to a speed he was more comfortable with.

Several cars beeped their horns at him, and when he looked over, they were glaring through their windows. Arthur watched them go, each one staying in their own lane so he moved the car over, sticking to one side. Unfortunately, it seemed that he’d never quite figured out how to stay in one lane, and as such wove across the road in increasingly dangerous moves.

Merlin pointed to a flat gravel expanse on the side of the road and Arthur pulled off. His hands were shaking, and he found himself happy enough to just sit there.

“Let’s go home now,” Merlin said, “I’ll drive us back—it’ll be far quicker.”

Merlin slid into the driver’s seat and Arthur into the passenger’s. Merlin, it seemed, had had some practice in being the _fastest_ possible driver around. He wove through traffic at 110km/hr, both on the footpath and the wrong side of the road, weaving through the cars and people with too many near misses.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, his hands gripping the door in terror.

“Yes, Arthur?” Merlin answered, distractedly.

“Do you even know how to drive?”

“Of course! I learnt nearly a century ago!”

 _Oh_ , well that explained everything.

“I think,” Arthur said sagely as they pulled up outside Merlin’s house, having gotten there in barely a quarter of the time it had taken Arthur to get them away, “We should hire someone to drive from now on.”


End file.
